


Mandalore, 2

by OliviaKenobi



Series: Mandalore [2]
Category: Star Wars, Star Wars: The Clone Wars, the clone wars
Genre: F/M, Mandalore, Obitine, The Clone Wars - Freeform, otp, time on mandalore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-10
Updated: 2017-03-10
Packaged: 2018-10-02 01:17:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10205618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OliviaKenobi/pseuds/OliviaKenobi
Summary: My second installment of Mandalore writings. Enjoy!





	

**Author's Note:**

> Really nothing to write here  
> \- Liv

     Satine would not have called her former life dull, but it indisputably seemed mundane compared to the constant on-the-run adventure she was currently on. Just yesterday they outsmarted their fourth bounty hunter, and earlier in the week, an attack from an extremely radical Mandalorian who had gone rogue and decided to take matters into his own hands. Her mind flashed briefly over the past weeks, before returning her focus to the conversation being held by her two protectorates.

     "If we leave in two rotations, that gives us time to replenish our stores and health," Obi-Wan was saying. His face was lit up with the golden firelight, accenting scrapes and smudges of dirt, and his clothes were beaten up with the occasional tear here and there. But his eyes shone with blue clarity, and he didn't appear nearly as tired as Satine thought he surely must feel. For not the first time, she gazed at him thoughtfully. He certainly wasn't a bad sight to look at.

     "I agree. We've been almost nonstop for a four days now. This cave can be our temporary camp," replied Qui-Gon as he cleaned up his lightsaber. The weapon glinted in the dim light as he turned it over and wiped it with his robes. When satisfied, he hooked it back onto his belt. "Let's have a small meal of rations, then rest up." He retrieved a few packets of dry rations from his sack and munched as he observed the fire's licking flames. Next to him, his Padawan did likewise, and also pulled out bandages and a bottle of medical solution.

     Satine peered into her bag and grabbed some of the dry rations. They didn't taste good, being rather plain and dull and void of flavor, but she ate in silent compliance to her rumbling stomach's wishes. While the taste wasn't there, she knew that each packet was loaded with ingredients specifically designed to give the consumer maximum nutrition in the most efficient way possible. She chewed the "nerf sausage" (could it even be called that?) and washed it down with some water. Near the end of her bland meal, she looked over and queried Obi-Wan, "What happened to your arm?" It had a sharp cut, not deep, but lengthy.

     "Branch. I didn't see the spiny vine twisted around it," replied the padawan. He applied the solution, a gentle bacta formula not as potent as the type used in bacta tanks, and positioned the bandage on his arm. "There we go," he said once finished, screwing on the cap to the bacta bottle and stuffing it back into its usual place. The Padawan then returned his gaze to her, "Did you receive many scratches?" Those endearing blue eyes of his made her heart flutter a bit, and she peered down with sudden interest to her hands resting in her lap.

     "A few on each hand, but it's fine. It's not as bad as yours," Satine answered lightly. She looked at Qui-Gon, but the Jedi Master had already started to slumber, oddly angled against the cave wall and without any sort of cushion. His quiet breathing was focused and strangely harmonized with the crackling fire.

     "By now, you've realized he tends to do this," Obi-Wan remarked, glancing at his Master as he followed her eyes. He withdrew his brown cloak from his bag and propped the pack up against the wall like a pillow, a routine that he had done in each cave they had visited.

     "Yes, I have." The Duchess prepared her own resting place and lay down, uncomfortably but uncomplainingly on the thin mat separating her from the floor. Pulling her blanket up, she turned away from the firelight and towards Obi-Wan, who was positioned a few feet away. On a whim, she asked, "Do you miss your home?"

     Obi-Wan blinked, his face a portrait of soft surprise. "My home is the Order." He replied.

     "What of your homeworld?"

     "Jedi begin training at a very young age. I know nothing of my family, only that I came from Stewjon."

     "Oh." Unsure of what to say next, Satine adjusted herself and stared and the ceiling. It was a hodgepodge of different types of rock molded together, a rugged piece of nature's art. It reminded her of a dish her father would attempt to make, back before Mandalorian politics and war wrecked havoc on their family. "Do you ever wish you did? Know your family, I mean."

     Obi-Wan sighed, "Not often. Occasionally, I feel a bit sad, because I scarcely remember my parents." His voice took on a stronger tone as he continued, "But the Order is my life; I am committed to it. Without it..." he left the unfinished sentence hang, a canyon of silence that lasted for a minute, interrupted only by the gentle sounds of Qui-Gon and the fire. Then he tucked himself in more with his robe and blinked back his heavy eyelids, "We ought to sleep, Satine."

     She nodded while yawning before answering, "I agree. Goodnight, Obi." After shifting around a bit to find a more comfortable position, she closed her weary eyes.

     "Goodnight, Satine." 


End file.
